


A Miracle of Rare Device

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: It was easy to lose track of time in that sort of cold. Nothing served as adequate distraction because your mind was constantly concerned with the problem of freezing to death—or rather, not freezing to death.





	

_Life and death have equal claim to ice, as well as the sublime and the horrifying. Spirits, both “salubrious and disturbing” may blow boundless within this space, because despite its frozen stillness, the icy space is also slippery and in constant shifting. An icy space therefore defies definition and so lacks clearly defined boundaries, allowing unmitigated movement of both healthy and damaging spirits._

 

Just before midwinter, frost descended on Camelot in a heavy, slick blanket. During the day, the courtyard and lower town shone with blinding intensity, every surface turned into a reflective one, amplifying the weak winter light. Most of the roads and foot paths were treacherous, and the icy sheets across the cobblestones only grew thicker by the day. The blue globe over them remained unmarred by clouds, darkening to the deepest black at night without even the welcome face of the moon to break the monotony. The weather became the only topic of conversation, every attempt at speech either stifled by chattering teeth or naturally turning back to the ever-present, inexplicable chill. It worked itself into the flesh, grinding away until it reached the bone. And then it moved deeper. 

It was easy to lose track of time in that sort of cold. Nothing served as adequate distraction because your mind was constantly concerned with the problem of freezing to death—or rather, not freezing to death. The days couldn’t be filled with any task, and the nights lasted for an eternity. The early loss of the sun meant more than just a loss of light. Hope seemed to disappear, too. 

Illness descended with the frost, and Merlin spent his days running errands for Gaius, braving the dangerous paths, moving as fast as he could over the ice without slipping. He still slipped. Often. Every hard fall left a new bruise on his backside, and he always forgot to use his magic to save himself, choosing instead to protect the bottles of the precious serums. They couldn’t afford to waste a single drop, and the thought of the children who would go out without medicine if he dropped it like a fool made Merlin nearly inconsolable. He didn’t have the energy for that sort of sadness. 

His nights were much less active. Instead of running errands, he sat up with the feverish and, to his unceasing horror, the dying. The freezing air was too hard on Gaius’s joints, and his exertions out of the castle were limited. He’d aged twenty years in three days, stiffly shuffling around his chambers, silently cursing his body for betraying him. Merlin would fix him. Merlin _wanted_ to fix him, but Gaius wouldn’t appreciate Merlin using magic like that. Even if it made his life easier. _Especially_ if it made his life easier. So Merlin compensated by seeing to everybody else’s comfort, quietly using magic when he could, ducking from house to house like a fugitive. Even the special dispensation from Arthur to move about after curfew didn’t feel like enough protection to Merlin. Not that the guards were inclined to give chase when they spotted suspicious activity. Within minutes of beginning their shifts, they would be numb, the fire they huddled around poor protection, so cold even their eyeballs felt frosted over. 

Merlin always made it back to Arthur’s chambers too late to be any good to him or complete his chores. By the fourth night, he felt like they’d lived for four years under the tyranny of the winter king. He didn’t understand how simply being cold could be so utterly exhausting, both physically and mentally. Each hour lived through the bright, frigid hell was an hour closer to Merlin’s breaking point, like everything inside of him was hardening into brittle crystals of ice. There were hard, round tears frozen to the corners of his eyes, melting once he stepped into Arthur’s relatively warm rooms. The moisture stung his numb cheeks, but the heat from the fire hurt so much he had to linger by the door for several moments after closing it even though he long to be consumed by the warmth. 

Arthur always waited up for him, no matter how long his new duties kept him out of the castle. He wore several layers of clothes beneath his fur robes, and his skin was red and chapped, the condition only made worse by the ice water he washed his face and hands in. Arthur never once complained about his water being so cold, even though the previous winter, he shouted at Merlin for hours if he had to break through a thin skin of ice. Arthur shouted much less in general. Shouting was a luxury for days when their throats weren’t dry and parched, when their sinuses didn’t throb. 

Arthur wrapped a large, heavy fur around Merlin’s shoulders, his face set in an oddly grim mask. With the robe settled, he kept his arm around Merlin’s back and guided him to the roaring fire. Merlin winced as they approached, his cheeks, fingers, and toes stinging with every step. Arthur made an appropriately sympathetic noise-- _I know it hurts but it will be better soon._ He gratefully sank into the chair near the fire, his calves turning to water as he defrosted. Arthur settled on his knees at Merlin’s feet as though it were the natural order of things and took Merlin’s hand, vigorously rubbing the tingling fingers between his larger palms. 

Arthur took his task very seriously. On the first night, Merlin had resisted him every step of the way, protesting that he was there to help Arthur prepare for bed, insisting he would be _fine_ and he wasn’t Arthur’s responsibility. Arthur disagreed on that point most strenuously, insulting Merlin in six different colorful ways before adding, “This cold can kill you, Merlin. And I don’t mean by fever. Plus, you’d be even more worthless if your fingers fell off. You’d be forced to live off Gaius’s charity because nobody would have you.” 

“You wouldn’t sack me,” Merlin muttered, signaling his acquiescence and slumping in the chair, tired but hopeful that there would be an end of the misery. Arthur grunted, perhaps in agreement, and dragged his palms from Merlin’s wrist to his fingertips, alternating his hands so they never broke contact. 

“I would if you were dumb enough to let your fingers freeze off.” 

So that was the end of that. 

When Arthur was satisfied that Merlin’s fingers were safe for at least one more night, he turned his attention to Merlin’s feet. He carefully tugged off Merlin’s boots, setting them in front of the fire to warm while he massaged Merlin’s feet, working the blood back into Merlin’s toes. Arthur’s fingers were strong enough to actually hurt him, but Merlin welcomed the pain because it wasn’t related to the cold. It was a different sensation from the burning numbness, more solid and dull. 

“You can’t stay out so late, Merlin. You’ve practically gone blue.” 

“It’s worse for the people who don’t live in the castle.” 

Arthur lowered his head, his face nothing but rigid lines. “Father will be opening the great hall tomorrow morning. He made his decision just tonight.” 

Merlin suspected that meant Arthur had finally won the argument that night. 

“It won’t be enough to save everybody,” Arthur continued, pressing Merlin’s frozen toes between both hands. Merlin barely suppressed the shiver that had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the pleasure of feeling Arthur’s calluses against his tender skin. 

“It’ll still help. It’s almost impossible to keep warm out there. I shudder to think of the poor people who live outside the walls.” 

“Geoffrey says there’s been cold periods like this before, though they happen rarely. But he seems to think it won’t last for much longer.” 

“Gaius is optimistic, too. As optimistic as anybody can be right now.” 

“Gods, your feet are like blocks of ice. Have you no stockings?” 

“They have so many holes in them that it doesn’t make a difference.” 

“Then patch them! I know you know how to darn socks.” 

“I don’t have time!” 

“Then why didn’t you say something? I have plenty of socks.” 

“I don’t want to steal all your clothes, Arthur.” 

“Don’t be stupid. You can’t walk properly without toes. Which will make you even slower than usual. Stop trying to get out of your duties, Merlin.” 

Merlin snorted. “You think I’m trying to get out of my duties by letting my toes freeze off?” 

“I can’t think of any other good reason you’d go out in this cold without being properly clothed.” 

“Very well, I’ll take all your best stockings and wear them two at a time.” 

“That’s better. Sit still. I have something for you.” 

Merlin didn’t need to be told twice. He sank even deeper into the chair, burying his chin beneath the fur. Arthur went to the pot sitting on the hearth and poured the warmed wine into a goblet. Merlin’s mouth watered a bit and his stomach growled, reminding him that he had yet to eat. There were only a few pieces hard crusts of bread left in Gaius’s cupboards, and Merlin quietly passed on breakfast each morning by simply being absent when Gaius took his first meal. 

“Here.” Arthur touched the goblet to Merlin’s mouth. “Open up.” 

“I can do this myself.” 

“No, keep your arms under the robe. Stay warm.” 

This was going a bit further than necessary as far as Merlin was concerned, but who was he to argue with the prince? So he parted his lips and obediently sipped at the spiced liquid, letting the temperature and the natural warmth of the alcohol soak through him. The wine soothed his sore throat and flooded his chest with heat. Except for Arthur touching him, this was the best time of the night. 

“Better?” 

“Mmm.” 

Arthur let him have another swallow before setting the cup down and moving out of Merlin’s sight. “I had the kitchen send up twice as much food as normal. It made the most sense, since I’ve just been letting you eat my dinner.” 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Did you ever consider you wouldn’t be so cold all the time if you had some flesh on your bones?” 

“Are you going to feed me, too, sire?” 

“Yes, now open up like a good boy.” 

Merlin swallowed, his throat suddenly quite tight. When Arthur actually put a piece of bread up to his mouth, he realized that he was serious about this. Merlin felt like he should argue more, try harder, but he really just wanted to eat. Later, after his stomach was full, he could worry about Arthur and his madness. He’d never heard of the cold being severe enough to drive a person crazy, but there had to be a first time for everything. Merlin was mostly just thankful the robes hid his growing erection, especially when Arthur’s thumb brushed against his bottom lip and his cock jerked in response. 

“It’s worse tonight,” Arthur said, while Merlin chewed on the bread. 

Merlin nodded. 

“I didn’t think it could.” 

“The weather has to break. This isn’t going to last forever.” 

“It feels like I’m never going to be warm again.” 

“I’m feeling quite toasty myself.” 

“Perhaps I should share those robes with you,” Arthur said lightly. 

“Perhaps you should.” 

“Here.” Arthur shoved a dried piece of venison into Merlin’s mouth. 

“I’m serious,” Merlin said, once he was finally finished chewing. “Gaius said that’s why everybody’s getting sick. They’re all sharing beds to keep warm.” 

Arthur arched his brow. “I never said anything about sharing a bed.” 

“Oh, I know, I didn’t mean…that. Not sharing a _bed_. Not like that.” Merlin laughed a little nervously. “And I didn’t mean you’d get sick. It’s just that it’s the best way to keep warm.” 

Merlin expected Arthur to make a great show of considering it, or at least give Merlin a hard time for suggesting it in the first place. But he was nodding before Merlin finished speaking. “Very well. I’ve already had a chambermaid up here to put warm stones in the bed.” 

Once Arthur’s mind was made up, he wasn’t interested in waiting. He bullied Merlin out of his comfortable chair and ushered him across the room, insisting Merlin climb under the thick pile of blankets and furs first. Merlin happily snuggled under the blankets until only the top of his head was visible. The warm stones did a bit to take the chill out of the bed linens, Merlin was pleased to discover. 

“Shove over.” 

“Go around.” 

“Go around? Need I remind you which one of us is the servant?” 

“You can stand there talking all you want. I’m nice and cozy.” 

Arthur grumbled something under his breath about ungrateful peasants, circled the bed, and dove under the covers. He wasn’t shy about pressing right against Merlin’s side, and Merlin snuggled closer, his cheek resting on Arthur’s chest. He pulled the blankets over his head, blocking the light from the fire and low-burning candles. They were in perfect darkness and perfect silence, except for Arthur’s heartbeat just below Merlin’s ear and their rapid, stuttered breath. 

“We should have been doing this from the beginning.” 

“Yeah,” Merlin agreed softly. “Feeling warm yet?” 

“Warmer.” 

“I know everything seems bad right now, but we had a plentiful harvest this year. The food stores are holding out, and we’ve had enough medicine for all the people with fevers. It could be a lot worse.” 

“I suppose that is something.” 

“And the midwinter festival will help distract everybody from the cold.” 

“Nobody is going to feel like celebrating when they’re frozen half to death.” 

“No, Arthur, I think that’s when they’re going to need a bit of a celebration.” 

“Are you comfortable?” 

“Do you want me to a move?” 

A beat passed before Arthur’s soft “no” reached his ears. 

Merlin turned his face into Arthur’s chest, warming his nose with each breath. The very tip of his nose must have been the coldest point on his body. Except maybe for his earlobes, which stuck out far too much for their own good, as Arthur was fond of saying. 

“Thank you,” Merlin said, his words muffled by Arthur’s robe. 

“It’s my job to take care of you.” 

Merlin was too content to quibble on that point. 

“Merlin, come on, move your head.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you’ve got a bony face and it’s digging into my ribs.” 

“You can’t feel my bony face. There are eight layers between us.” 

“Turn over,” Arthur ordered gruffly, yanking Merlin onto his back. Merlin grumbled and refused to cooperate, his limbs heavy and wooden . Arthur probably wouldn’t have minded that if Merlin wasn’t essentially a formless bundle under several tightly wrapped furs. “Do you really need all this?” 

“Have you finally gone completely mad? Of course I need it. It’s freezing.” 

“Not under the linens.” 

“You’re wrapped up, too.” 

“We’ll be hot enough to sweat soon,” Arthur pointed out. 

“Good. That sounds perfect. Weren’t you just whining about how you’ll never warm again? Go to sleep and enjoy it.” 

“Come on, take a few off at least. Or I’ll kick you out and you can sleep on the chair.” 

“But you’ll only be punishing yourself, sire.” But he peeled off the top layers and kicked them to the bottom. He didn’t feel much of a difference. “You have to unwrap a few layers if I do.” 

Without approximately a dozen robes smashed between the two of them, the bed seemed larger and smaller all at once. Merlin could spread out if he wanted to, arms and legs flung extravagantly—except for Arthur. If he moved in any way, he would be touching Arthur. If he cuddled closer to Arthur’s chest, for example, he would feel Arthur’s muscles against his cheek, and he might even smell his skin, and he would definitely absorb the heat from his body. His brain must have had a chance to properly thaw, because he was finally thinking coherently and this was not a good idea. 

This was a very bad idea. 

But only if somebody found out about it. And who ever would? 

Merlin crept closer, moving softly like Arthur was a creature who’d startle easy. He thought Arthur was distracted by the business of falling asleep, and wasn’t expecting his annoyed grunt or the sudden arm around his shoulders, hauling him closer. 

“Honestly, Merlin. We’re only here for one reason. Don’t be such a girl about it.” 

“It just seems…weird.” 

“It seems weird,” Arthur repeated flatly. 

“Yes.” 

“It seemed like a great idea five minutes ago.” 

“It was a great idea five minutes go, but now we’re…we’re _cuddling_.” 

“You started it!” 

“It was different then!” 

“How was it different three minutes ago?” 

“The robes. There were more robes.” He sounded stupid. He felt stupid. He also felt like he had a fever his face was burning so hotly. He couldn’t move, because if he did Arthur would surely feel the hard bulge in Merlin’s pants. He probably felt it now, since it was pressed right up against his stomach. And he touched Arthur often, but that contact was always fleeting. This was full-bodied and prolonged and so…sumptuous. 

“Okay, it sounds like you need to get some sleep, before you lose what’s left of your senses. You can sleep in, by the way. I’ve canceled training in the morning and I don’t plan to leave these chambers.” 

“I’ll probably get up anyway. Unless you want the whole castle to know I’m your official bed warmer.” 

“Bed warmer? Seriously, Merlin?” 

“What? I’m…oh, right. Right, no, I’m not one of those. For anybody.” 

“Good to know. Is sharing time over?” 

“Yes,” Merlin muttered. 

He was just slipping into the warm abyss of sleep when he caught the faintest whisper, soft air brushing over Arthur’s lips. 

“What was that? I didn’t hear you?” 

Arthur sighed. “I thought you were asleep.” 

“I was asleep. Until you started talking.” 

“I didn’t start talking.” 

“I heard you say something, Arthur. I couldn’t make it out, but you were definitely speaking.” 

“I didn’t say anything. You were dreaming. Or you’re hearing voices. Which, quite frankly, wouldn’t surprise me one bit.” 

“I wasn’t hearing voices. My ear is two inches from your mouth, Arthur.” Which was not at all an exaggeration. “So if you’re going to be mumbling to yourself and you don’t want me to know about it, you better make sure I’m asleep.” 

“You were snoring.” 

“I wasn’t. Spit it out.” 

“You’re not going to let off, are you?” 

“Nope.” 

“Are you just trying to be difficult?” 

“I’m shocked you would think something like that about _me_ , Merlin, your good and faithful servant.” 

“Fine, in that case, I said you could be if you wanted to be. All right? Happy?” 

“Could be what?” 

Arthur growled. “My bed warmer!” 

“Oh. Oh. Really?” 

“Well obviously, you were meant to hear it or to know or anything.”

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s…it’s just a nice fantasy, isn’t it? But it can’t be more than that.” 

_A nice fantasy_? What was this madness? Was he dreaming? Was he perhaps suffering through hallucinations while freezing to death? 

“How do you mean?” Merlin asked. “What’s a nice fantasy?” 

“The two of us, being together like that. I mean, we’re mates, right? We’re comfortable together. This isn’t even the first time we’ve had to share a bed like this. I wouldn’t have to worry if you really liked me for who I am because…” 

“I don’t like you anyway?” 

“Right, and also, you don’t care that I’m the prince. You’re always around when I need you, and you actually do a good job of your other chores, so I wouldn’t see why this would be any different. Plus, that’s something to do when it’s too cold to do anything else.” 

“So, you fantasize about you and me because I’m familiar, easy, and convenient?”

“No,” Arthur whispered. “I fantasize about it because you’re Merlin.” 

“Why can’t it be more than a fantasy?” Merlin asked carefully. 

“Because then we wouldn’t be best mates anymore. I don’t know what we’d be.” 

“Do you not want to be more or something different?” 

“What does it matter what I want? I can’t give you more. I can’t _be_ more.” 

Merlin lifted his head and pushed the blanket up just enough to see a hint of Arthur’s face. “Arthur, what more do you think I need from you?”

“You deserve to be more than the royal bed warmer, which is all you would be if we…” 

“Maybe to the rest of them.” Merlin sighed. “I’m not saying we should just strip right down and give in to these thoughts.” Feelings, urges, impulses, dreams, wishes. “But if you ever change your mind…if you ever change your mind, Arthur, I know who you are. You’re already everything to me.” 

Under normal circumstances, Merlin would have never made such a confession. But the words seemed right at home there, broken off from their lips in frozen chunks that lay between them. The thing about ice was, it would melt eventually. These confessions would break down drip by drip and then seep back into the solid foundation of their friendship. One day, the feelings would rise to the surface again. Perhaps then, they’d both be wise enough to understand what it all meant. What it all was for. 

More warm and secure than he’d ever been in his life, Merlin knew he could wait for the spring.


End file.
